


Three Floors Away

by Kalla_Moonshado



Series: Conspiracy of Ravens [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Failed attempt at masturbation, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Frustration, UST, not actual pairing - yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 03:53:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11176467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalla_Moonshado/pseuds/Kalla_Moonshado
Summary: In the aftermath of a long day in which assistant became apprentice, Medivh and Khadgar find out more about themselves.A prelude in the same 'verse as Cherished, Misplaced and Replaced.





	1. Medivh

**Author's Note:**

> Written to shut the elder raven up. Because OMG.  
> This interrupted Dust to Dust (which I am still working on and will post, don't worry; there are no good chapter breaks or half of it would be up by now).
> 
> In Cherished, Khadgar mentioned to Medivh that he'd ..."tried" once - exploring himself and experimenting.  
> This is that time.  
> The poor thing actually winds up in this state until Cherished actually happens... 5 weeks? 6 weeks? at least that... later.  
> As always, the underage tag is because Khadgar's 17.  
> He's fully over the age of consent for .. whatever in most of the world - and certainly on Azeroth.

Medivh paced the floor of his room, unable to keep still.

He could still feel the hands on his. He could still feel the warm pressure against his chest. He could still imagine the way his arm felt as it lifted to press a hand against the young man’s chest and pull him back a little as they banked.

He could still feel the little grunt of surprise vibrating against his heart as they landed.

This was stupid.

Medivh paused his pacing and poked at a bookshelf.  Perhaps reading something inane would put him to sleep and none of this would be in his thoughts once he awakened.

This should not be in his thoughts _now_.

His hand fell from where it brushed against a copy of _Songes of Battleworne_ and dropped to his side.

Poetry would do him no good. Old songs would do him no good. Words. Words were useless.

Unfair. It was unfair. He should not even have this line of thinking involved in his life. Not this life.  He turned his back on the shelf and made his way back to his bed.

He needed to sleep.

But sleep was elusive.

It was a long day. It was a longer week. His mind was turning in circles and he couldn’t make it stop. There was a thread of darkness in his thoughts that he did not want, never wanted and could not push away.

He had attacked an assistant this morning. And had an apprentice before the sun set.

It was madness. He never should have said it, never should have accepted it, but.. but…

He couldn’t deny that the trail of events…

He had seen the boy fall of course. Watched from afar as he’d picked himself up, fought back instead of freezing up.

And then… bought time.

Clever. Through the fear and the emptiness and the bluff and false confidences and the voice that threatened to crack with every word it.. it…

Light above. Was he thinking too much about it?

He was. He was and he wasn’t stopping the train of thought, as it trailed into the way the boy – young man – had trembled when he touched him.

Was that shock? Exhaustion? Was that fear in those icy blue depths or was it shock? Was it more?

He was seeing things now.

He dropped onto his bed and lay back, shaking his head at himself as he pulled sheet and blankets over him, then turned onto his side.

Insanity. He saw nothing there but the shock and relief of being rescued after draining himself raw – and there was no doubt that his assist- Apprentice.. Apprentice had drained himself to nothing to buy that precious time, and was prepared to flee on top of that, despite the rough landing, the exhaustion…

He was so much more than he looked, and something in Medivh was over-analyzing every minute detail down to the fluttering heart as he had held the young man close to brace for the landing earlier, the way he stumbled as he dismounted and waved away any offers of aid to get downstairs and to the bath awaiting him.  The way he looked almost normal at dinner, if a little shellshocked and wide-eyed.

Medivh closed his eyes. He wasn’t going to think about this.

He already was.

The way those pale eyes just looked up at him with true gratitude, the confusion as he touched the forehead above them.

He wasn’t thinking about it. He wasn’t. He was not thinking about his new assist- apprentice in that way. He wasn’t going to. He couldn’t afford to. But it was so hard…

And so was he.

Medivh turned over onto his back again, ignoring the cotton as it dragged across sensitive skin, and wished it was something else. Someone else.

He wasn’t thinking about this.  He wasn’t. He wouldn’t.

He was.

He could feel the pounding of his heart as innocent images turned far less innocent, as his hand slid to pull at the fabric, dragging cotton over his skin, slid to lift the hem, and slid under it.

He froze. He wasn’t seriously doing this. He wasn’t seriously about to touch himself thinking about a man decades younger than him.

Not that the decades would have mattered considering his coma; he still felt no more than twenty.

He pulled his hand back and smoothed the nightshirt back down, turning onto his other side and wiling his body to stop.

Not that it listened. Not when images of a pair of ice-blue eyes brushed across his mind and the way that one lock of hair fell constantly into them and…

No.. no. This was not a thing. This was not happening.

He turned over onto his stomach and buried his face into his pillow.

It didn’t stop the images of his assist- apprentice, looking up at him with shy smiles, or the determined look he got as he worked something out, or the way he looked as he took notes, ink on his nose, the tip of his tongue just visible between those perfect lips.

He groaned in what he wanted to be frustration… until he realized he wasn’t still. His hands tightened into balls, his arms around the pillow his face was buried in. It wasn’t fair.  It wasn’t fair and he wasn’t _doing_ this…

But he was. And half of him _wanted_ to.

Fine. If it was the only way he could stop the onslaught of images and get some damned sleep, fine. He would play his body’s game.

He shifted, sliding his legs apart and bending his knees, using them as leverage as he moved. He tried to blank his mind and concentrate on the sensations but his mind kept feeding him images of his assis- apprentice.

Restlessly he turned over and with a sharp exhale of exasperation and frustration, gave in.

If he was quick enough he wouldn’t have time to feel guilty.

His body had other ideas.

No matter how he moved, no matter how tight his hand curled around his shaft, it was slow to build. He tried lifting one knee and using his foot to add leverage to the movement of his hips, but to no avail.

His lips parted and he let his breath speed up to match his pounding heart, and the moan that slipped past them rang in his ears.

Only he didn’t hear his own voice.

He heard a somewhat sleepy moan as he shook his apprentice awake after having fallen asleep in the library.

Light, this wasn’t happening to him…

He began to wonder what those lips, those perfect lips would feel like against his. What those skilled fingers, quick to trace runes against the air, would feel like against his skin. What that voice would sound like as …as he… he…

Medivh arched; the end was coming, and he couldn’t stop wondering. He _wanted_ those lips against his, against his skin. He _wanted_ those hands to do what his were now. He _wanted_  to hear that voice moaning his name as he came.

He didn’t hear himself the first time. He wasn’t sure his lips had formed the word. The name. It felt entirely too natural with the way his blood pounded in his ears, the way his nerves were on fire, the way the core of him flared with heat.

Perversely, he tasted the name again, and his arch deepened. His control was slipping. His wrist hurt, but he couldn’t stop – not now. He had to… He _had_ to…

“Oh… _Khadgar…_ ”

The world went white for an instant and he was lost to his body’s release.

Sound returned in the form of a clock ticking across the room, the sound of his breathing as it came in harsh pants, the beating of his heart as it raced.

His eyes opened, and in the relative darkness, he wondered just how long he’d been there; the candle by the bed had burned low, and he was almost certain that it was some unholy hour of the morning.

His hand dropped to his side, leaving a damp trail.  He stared at the ceiling, wishing he could go back in time, just a few hours, and knock himself out instead of … instead of this.

His body was sated, but his mind was awash with shock, guilt, longing.

He kicked the blankets to the foot of the bed and got up, his bare feet barely feeling the cold of the floor as he went to go wash up.

To erase the evidence.

He dropped his nightshirt at the foot of the bed when he returned and crawled back into bed. He was finally sleepy, but the cost… oh the cost…

He had to stop thinking before it resulted in a repeat of the last hour.  He stretched out on his side and sighed.

He couldn’t let this happen. It wasn’t fair to the young man sleeping three floors below; he should send him away before something worse happened than… than this.

But he couldn’t.

He had an apprentice now; a far more permanent fixture than an assistant.

He couldn’t do much about that yet; the day had been long, and his apprentice was probably going to need a day or two before he was his usual self.

Maybe by then this whole mess would be forgotten, and he would be able to sleep at night without thinking of…

Oh damn it.

He snarled, turned onto his other side and told his body to shut up, told his mind to quiet itself.

He fell asleep wishing to know what it would be like to awaken with those blue eyes on his.


	2. Khadgar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khadgar's half of this mess.  
> Far more introspective... and frustrating.

The single foot sticking up out of the tub was the only reason Khadgar didn’t fall asleep.  The water, heated a little more than he was used to, was easing sore muscles and scratches and scrapes he’d gotten as he’d fallen from his gryphon earlier in the day.  It also eased his aching back from where Medivh had thrown him into a bookcase earlier than that.

He stretched, moaning at the sparks of pain that shot up his spine. Oh what he wouldn’t give for a mug of willow bark and cinnamon. There wasn’t much on the list.

He could request it, or make it himself, he realized. But that would mean actually leaving the blessed heat and traipsing downstairs. He wasn’t sure he could do stairs right now. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to get down the hall to his own room, when it came to that.

Maybe he had at least one or the other in his satchel; he always kept something for pain these days, with waking up on the library tables after long days of trying to figure out which books were going where, and with the strain of actually reaching higher shelves in the cases.

For now, he was content, half-dozing in the heat, the chill against his foot keeping him just at a temperature that he wouldn’t fall fully asleep. It was a trick he’d learned in Dalaran, though it was supposed to keep him from overheating as he soaked out tension, it worked wonders now to keep him on just this side of awake.

He gasped as a muscle in his back suddenly gave with a pop, then moaned as it eased. He stretched again and felt several vertebrae pop back to where they were supposed to be now that the muscle there allowed for it.

He sank further into the water so his shoulders gained the full benefit, laying his head back against the sloped back so his neck was supported. If he could, he’d have that in the water as well, but… well. The tub was only so large, and he was larger.  Well. Longer anyway.

After a moment’s deliberation, the other foot appeared by its twin and he slid further down, bracing his colder foot against the rim to keep himself from sliding down into the water fully. The heat shot up his neck and he moaned again.

He would never fall off a gryphon again. Well, if he could help it.  Not and then try to bluff a dozen orcs and drain himself and then…

He sighed. He wasn’t even certain how it had happened. He wasn’t sure he wasn’t actually dead, laying where that orc had sent him up in flames or worse.  He twisted a little to resettle and another vertebra popped into place and he groaned in relief.  He wasn’t sure how many were out of place, but each time one more popped back to where it belonged it was a blessing.

He turned his neck and a sharp series of cracks cut the silence, followed by a sigh.  Another ten minutes here and he might actually be able to sleep.

Sleep. Funny, how he was exhausted by he couldn’t sleep.  Then again, if he pulled his feet into the warmth he’d probably be out sooner than a candle blown out by a sharp breeze, and someone – probably Moroes – would find him come morning, drowned.

Assuming he was really alive now. This could all be a dream of some kind – a hallucination of—

His back made another noise, this time near his waist, more of a _clunk_ than a _crack_. Blue eyes rolled up and then the lids closed over them, the groan accompanying it almost indecent. Oh that was better. That was so much better.  The ache in his hips was dissipating now. Walking was going to be much easier. Then again, there were no stairs to deal with from here to his room.

He slid up, his arms aching as he moved.  He hissed as he pulled his feet back in, going from icy air to hot water a shock. It was enough to wake him up enough to scrub away the dust and dirt that hadn’t come loose during the soak, and he actually washed his hair twice before he was sure there was nothing left of road dust and sweat.

His foot felt for the drain plug and his toes curled around it and lifted it out, letting the water drain as he levered himself up.

He wasn’t quite prepared for the rush of cold air against his skin and he tensed at once, undoing half of what the soak had accomplished.  He reached for his towel, rolling his eyes as he ran it over his skin.  He folded it absently and left it on the edge of the tub before he stepped out – directly into a pair of sheepskin slippers.  He knew better than to brave the hallway with bare feet; he would be an icicle before he reached his room.  He pulled on the wrap-robe that had waited with the towel and picked up the lantern, leaving the relative warmth of the bathroom for the hallway.

He hung the lantern at his door and blew it out, the candle from his bedside more than enough light for him to cross the room, slide out of the slippers and robe and into his bed, kept warm by magic.

In its warmth, he stretched again, feeling more vertebrae and his hips crack, his arms shuddered and his feet cramped a little as he held the stretch, then went limp against the bed with a sigh. He was starting to finally feel less like … he had no idea.  He felt more himself, anyway.

He turned over onto his side and shifted until he was comfortable.  Now he could think, and he would eventually drift off into the rest his body and mind demanded.

He had awakened this morning an assistant. He had gone to bed an apprentice. That in and of itself was a small miracle.  Something in the back of his mind tickled at his conscious thoughts.  His eyes closed as the candle by the bed guttered into death, plunging the room into darkness, lit only by the sliver of moonlight from his window.

Medivh had _touched_ him. It was … odd. He hadn’t thought about it earlier. There was more than the brush of hand to shoulder. There was more than simple concern as his mentor had bent to look at him after setting several orcs on fire.

There had been something… unreadable in those stormy green eyes that screamed something to him but he could not fathom what it was.  The touch of his hand against his forehead, more than the touch that had dropped gryphon-riding into his head was … gentle. There was more than concern there.

Was there?

Was he overreacting because the last time someone had touched him with such gentleness had been years ago?

The voice was much softer as well, as the Magus told him to rest, that it was over – the worst of it anyway.

He suddenly realized it was at that moment when he felt … safe. His fear had drained out of him and he remembered staring at nothing until he was introduced to Anduin Lothar… as Medivh’s _apprentice_.

He smiled a little as he stretched again, turning to a better position, one that didn’t put pressure on his hip so much.  There had been… affection? Was he imagining that as well?

Ugh, was he so starved for affection that he was seeing it where it wasn’t?

Did he want more than…

Khadgar snorted, determined to stop that line of thought before it even started.

There was a reason for mages to show less than affectionate anything for anyone. Such bonds were dangerous.

It made for a lonely existence, but there were always books, learning, and the joy that came from both. He hugged his pillow and sighed again.

But it would certainly be nice if… if…

If.

He pulled his blankets up to his chin and snuggled further into them. He didn’t need what-ifs. He didn’t need to be touched. He opened his eyes and looked out the window at the sliver of sky. He wondered if Medivh was up in the observatory or if he was already asleep.

His eyes closed again. He should be asleep. Morning would come early, whether or not he slept; he learned that the hard way falling asleep twice in the library already.

The darkness and the quiet slowly began sending him into a doze. His breathing evened out and he was on the very edges of sleep when he heard.. something.

His eyes snapped open. That sound was his name.  He held his breath.  The voice was … ghostly, from far away, but it was his name, spoken… spo—

No. Moaned.

That voice was Medivh’s!

Before he realized what he was even doing he was sliding his legs over the edge of the bed and hunting for his slippers, one of which had slid under the bed when he kicked them off.  As he slid a foot into its corresponding slipper he stopped.

This wasn’t right.  It was his overactive imagination. He was on the edge of sleep; it was the start of a dream.

Rolling his eyes at himself, he turned his foot and let the slipper slide from it and pulled it back into the warmth as he lay back down.  It took him several moments to find his comfortable position again, and he closed his eyes.

As he started drifting off again, he heard it a second time, more insistent, and… it was definitely a moan.

Khadgar held his breath, and waited, his heart pounding.

He wasn’t dreaming. The third time he heard it, it was not, absolutely not a call for help. The sound of it ran down his spine, and curled into the pit of his stomach like he had just swallowed a heated stone.  He turned over and blushed as he felt the sheet catch on a very sudden, very prominent erection.

He lifted his hand and ran it over his face. This was the last thing he needed.

He turned onto his back fully and stared up at the ceiling for a moment before closing his eyes and starting a meditation exercise to get rid of it. His hands curled into the sheet beneath him as he realized it wasn’t working.

Damn it.

He shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the insistent arousal that was curling itself ever more tightly into his core, the warmth that ran along his nerves and the sound of his name… that came from…

Where?

For a moment he was distracted. How had he heard that? Was it … He looked up, instinctively, wondering if he had heard it because Medivh had uttered it. It could have been, considering … this tower was odd. Perhaps its acoustics were…

Not through three floors. That was absurd.

Still… if it… if it had been…

He gasped as he shifted and his body called sharp attention back to what it wanted.

He swallowed, nervously. He’d never even… tried. It wasn’t that he didn’t _know_ how it all worked; he’d read enough and knew enough that he wasn’t ignorant on the subject. He’d just never felt so strongly that he needed to do anything about it.

He figured his body would take care of itself as he slept; it wasn’t that uncommon for someone his age, though since he started practicing actual spells in earnest, he found it happened far less.

Of course. He’d not cast much lately, thus there was a …

N-no… He had exhausted himself not hours earlier.

He swore, muttering as he tried to turn again so it wasn’t so much of a bother. He would ignore it and go to sleep and say nothing about it.  He turned. And it protested, scraping across linen. He hissed. He looked up at the ceiling again, wondering if … if…

If it _had_ been… Then if he… what if…

He shoved the thought away, sighed in frustration and lifted his hand. He bit his lip as his hand touched sensitive flesh; velvet over iron. He brushed fingertips over unexplored space that sparked his nerves into fire, and made him shiver.

Something in him awakened with a rush, as though something that had been locked away was suddenly unleashed, even as he snarled at it and told it to go away; he wouldn’t do this at all if he could just get to sleep.

But it was awake.

At once, he wondered what it would be like to _be_ touched. Not by his own hands. By the hands that belonged to that voice who … He shoved that thought away just as ruthlessly, and curled his hand around his cock and began stroking.  It shouldn’t take long; he wasn’t used to touch and, if he concentrated, it should be over in seconds.

Seconds ticked by. His breathing came in gasps. His blood sang as his heart raced.

But there was nothing. There was a sense of need, want, and oh _Light_ it felt so good, but… there was no end.

He gave up when his wrist began to ache and he had gotten no further than when he started.  Something about it just wasn’t right.

Perhaps it was the teachings. Perhaps it was him.

Perhaps it was that he was starting to want more from his mentor than he wanted to admit.

No. Oh no, not that. It wasn’t that.

He almost wept with vexation. His body was demanding something he could not give to it, and it wasn’t as though he could go elsewhere.  The very _last_ thing he wanted to do was to try to ask Medivh for answers.

With any luck, he would get to sleep… and find it taken care of come morning, like other times before.

He finally managed to drift off.

But come morning, luck had not been with him.


End file.
